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This Mystic Life
I am a Queer Heretic Nun.
I changed my bio to that a month or so ago. It had been Queer Pagan Nun, but I’ve less and less come to identify as strictly pagan. This year, in fact, I’m having a Jesus Year — set up by my Guides and Goddesses. One of Them has a Thing with Him, but that’s a story for a whole other post.
I’m a Mystic. My spiritual path is one of direct union with the Divine, as I experience Them, for the transformation of myself, my Village, my community, and the world.
My relationship status with the Divine? It’s complicated. I joke that the Divine is my Domme, and it’s not entirely a joke, but it’s also not a hierarchical, “My God is my Commander,” sort of thing, either. It’s a constant negotiation, where I set the course, and They show me how to get there. And sometimes, as They are showing me how to get there, I realize that maybe I didn’t want to be there after all, and then They start cackling at me because They’d warned me ahead of time, but my stubborn ass just kept on going.
My entire life is dedicated to walking the path of the Mystic. And more specifically, the Hermit. The one who goes off on her own into the wilderness — either real or metaphor — and waits for seekers to come along seeking her wisdom. Wisdom that she cultivates through deep union with the Divine through deep union with the Self.
